


Eight Weeks

by zellieh



Category: due South
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Caught, Co-workers, Coitus Interruptus, Comedy, Coming Out, Crack, Dating, Detectives, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Fun, Funny, Happy Ending, Humour, Implied Relationships, Laundry, Light-Hearted, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Mother-Son Relationship, POV Female Character, POV Minor Character, POV Outsider, POV Third Person, Police, Quickies, Romance, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zellieh/pseuds/zellieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara Kowalski let herself in to Ray's apartment, and stopped. It looked different, somehow. Cleaner and tidier, but more than that.  Barbara smiled to herself, and started checking the kitchen – yes, she knew she was being nosy, but she was Ray's mother, she was entitled – and frowned a little when she found some kind of herbal tea that looked like it had twigs in it. Stella had liked those weird herbal teas, but Ray always hated them, said they were for yuppies with more money than sense.</p><p>Then she remembered him complaining about the weird Inuit teas Fraser drank, and brightened. If Ray had bought it for Fraser, then maybe he wasn't dating another yuppie Stella-type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_flashfiction/profile)[**ds_flashfiction**](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_flashfiction/) 'Laundry' challenge. Beta'd by the lovely [](http://ignazwisdom.livejournal.com/profile)[**ignazwisdom**](http://ignazwisdom.livejournal.com/)

**Eight Weeks. **

 

**First Week.**

The hamper wasn't empty, but there were no sheets in it. Barbara frowned, and checked the bedroom, and all the cupboards, but she couldn't find the dirty sheets anywhere. Finally, she counted his sets: the blue ones, the white ones, the ugly grey striped ones, the ones with the little faded flowers…they were all there, and the ones on the bed were clean, too.

Ray had done his own laundry.

Except he hadn't, because he hadn't washed his clothes, only his sheets.

Hmm.

He hadn't done that since he'd been a teenager, having wet dreams over Stella…

Oh.

 

**Second Week. **

The hamper in the bathroom was full of brand new underwear, smart suits, and nice shirts that smelt of cologne – a new one, not the one Stella'd bought him.

Barbara saw the new bottle on the sink, opened it, and sniffed: it smelt lovely, cool and fresh, with a hint of pine. She didn't recognise the name, and the price was in Canadian. It didn't look like a cheap brand, but it didn't look expensive, either; she thought that was a good sign.

Stella had only ever bought Ray stuff so expensive, if you had to ask the price, you couldn't afford it, and then he'd been so worried about how much it cost, he'd hardly ever worn it. They'd had a big fight about that, she remembered, Stella all hurt because she thought Ray didn't like the present she'd saved up so hard to buy, and Ray too embarrassed to explain.

In the bedroom, she checked for any laundry Ray might have missed. Well, that was her excuse, and she was sticking to it. She didn't find any dirty laundry, but the bed was freshly made, and the picture of Stella was gone from the nightstand, which was another good sign.

A new pair of vintage jeans, his favourite t-shirt, and the black leather jacket were laid out on the chair, ready to go. Barbara stroked the soft fabric, and smiled.

She'd been a little worried by the suits, and the cologne, but these weren't expensive-restaurant clothes. You couldn't wear those jeans any place they had more than one fork – they were comfortable jeans, jeans her Ray could be comfortable in.

Ray wasn't taking his new girl any place impressive tonight, he was taking her some place he could be comfortable; maybe they could be comfortable there together.

She thought that would be the best sign of all.

 

**Third Week. **

The third week, when she let herself in, there was a cactus in a pot with a bow on it by the window, and the rug had been pulled back for dancing. Barbara checked the CD cases by the stereo: Sinatra, Barry White, Romantic Classics by the Canadian Philharmonic Orchestra… She pressed 'play,' and something Latin started, fast and sexy, and Barbara smiled and danced into the bedroom, humming along.

There were head prints on both pillows.

The stereo started a new song, a tango, and Barbara grinned, and started picking up the laundry that had been thrown into the corner. She shook out a man's old undershirt, and it wasn't Ray's; it was bigger, with a darned shoulder seam.

Barbara thought about that, and decided it was probably a good sign.

Stella had been a scrawny little thing, and she'd always worn real fancy lingerie that made Barbara nervous the few times she had had to wash it. A nice, practical, down-to-earth girl might be just what Ray needed, after Stella. And if she was a big healthy girl, she might actually get Ray to eat right.

 

**Fourth Week.**

Barbara let herself in to Ray's apartment, and stopped. It looked different, somehow. Cleaner and tidier, but more than that. She looked around more carefully.

A lot of the 'good-enough, they'll-do' things Ray'd bought after the divorce, and never liked, were missing – and so were all of Stella's knick-knacks that he'd never liked, and kept for 'sentimental reasons.' Which had mainly seemed to involve him getting drunk and crying over them, so she was glad they were gone.

Barbara smiled to herself, and started checking the kitchen – yes, she knew she was being nosy, but she was Ray's mother, she was entitled – and frowned a little when she found some kind of herbal tea that looked like it had twigs in it. Stella had liked those weird herbal teas, but Ray always hated them, said they were for yuppies with more money than sense.

Then she remembered him complaining about the weird Inuit teas Fraser drank, and brightened. If Ray had bought it for Fraser, then maybe he wasn't dating another yuppie Stella-type.

Her smile widened as she noticed the saucepan and the baking tray soaking in the sink. It looked like Ray was cooking again.

She bent down to check the refrigerator, and did a little victory-dance. Yes! Only one pizza box, and the rest of the fridge was full of real food, fresh milk…fresh fruit!

Oh, she couldn't wait to meet this woman.

 

**Fifth Week. **

The fifth week, she was worried about Ray, since Fraser hurt his back jumping off a Ferris wheel – or onto it, or something was moving, anyway – and ended up in the hospital, and had to take several days off. Which meant Ray had to work alone, which always put him in a really bad mood.

So she expected his place to be a mess, but instead it was cleaner than she'd ever seen it, and when she checked the hamper it was empty. She had to check the bedroom, though – she might have missed the laundry, right? – so she looked in Ray's wardrobe, and then checked his dresser drawers, just in case.

All Ray's laundry was done, ironed, starched, and folded. Just the right amount of starch, too...oh, and Ray's favourite shirt, that took such a long time to iron right, was _perfect._

Stella had certainly never taken that long over her Ray's shirts.

Barbara checked everything thoroughly, and finally had to admit the laundry was probably done almost as well as she could do it.

Although she did wonder what kind of person starched underwear…

 

**Sixth Week. **

Barbara sniffed at the mess, and started to tidy up, throwing out pizza boxes, beer bottles, and take-out cartons. The place looked almost as bad as it had before he started dating his mystery woman, and it was obvious he hadn't been able to see her this week, working such long hours on that chimpanzee case he wouldn't talk about. She hoped his new girl would be more understanding about his long hours than Stella had been.

Still, at least it looked like Fraser had come round most nights. In fact, it looked like someone had been sleeping on the couch, so he might even have stayed over. Poor boys – they must have been so tired.

Barbara was glad Ray had brought his partner over for dinner last weekend. It was obvious he needed looking after. Such a polite boy, too. It was nice that Ray had such a good friend to spend time with, even if he was a little...strange; she didn't like to think of her boy sitting in his apartment every night, all alone without his girl.

Barbara wrinkled her nose at the smell of the laundry, and went to fetch a pair of gloves from the kitchen before touching any of it. She bundled it up at arms length, trying not to breathe in, and started stuffing it into a plastic bag. It looked like they'd been running through alleys again, or maybe they'd fallen into another dumpster.

Spotting one of Fraser's henleys – it had to be Fraser's, Ray would never sew a name tag in any of his clothes – she shuddered. The poor boys must have been filthy down to their skin. Still, at least Ray had probably been able to lend Fraser something clean that fit. Barbara just hoped they hadn't caught anything nasty, rolling around in all that garbage.

 

**Seventh Week. **

Barbara frowned at the picture on the nightstand beside the bed: she recognised the frame, Grandmother's photo frame, the one Ray always used for Stella's picture.

That was a bad sign, if Ray had put Stella's photo back out...but it didn't look like Stella's photo. Maybe it was a picture of Ray's new girl? Pulling out her glasses, Barbara picked it up, squinting.

Oh.

She collapsed onto the bed.

Oh.

She realised she was still holding the frame.

Oh, Stanley.

Reaching out, she stroked her fingertips over Stanley's smile. She'd almost forgotten that smile.

Oh, my boy.

Water splattered on the glass, and Barbara raised a hand to her face. Her face was wet. Tears? Was she crying? Hastily, she wiped them away, wiped the glass clean.

She looked at the picture again: the happy smiles, the Arctic wilderness, the sled and the dogs, both of them bundled up in so many layers their smiles were pretty much all you could see of them…

Fraser's underwear in Ray's hamper…

Her boy.

Her little boy.

 

**Eighth Week. **

Barbara let herself in, and stopped, surprised to see Ray home at lunchtime…and with Fraser, too. She raised an eyebrow as she noticed the rucked-up rug, the couch pushed slightly out of position, its cushions crumpled and a throw tossed haphazardly over the back.

Ohhh!

Oh, dear.

Maybe she should start phoning first. And knocking; she should definitely knock before she walked in next time. She smiled at them stiffly and hoped she wasn't blushing. "Hello, boys."

Ray shuffled his feet, blushed bright red, and couldn't meet her eyes. "Mom."

Fraser gave her an awkward half-bow and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Kowalski."

Really, the two of them might as well be wearing a neon sign: 'we came home for a quickie and we got caught!' She couldn't believe she'd missed it for so long when they were so obvious. Steeling herself, she leaned up and kissed Ray's cheek, "Baby," and then Fraser's, "Ben." Fraser – Ben – looked a little startled, and Ray's eyes narrowed.

"Don't mind me, I won't take long, I just came to pick up your laundry." She put her things down on the counter, ignoring the frantic whispered conversation between the boys – "…knows!" "…calm…" "No, I will not calm down, Frase!" "Shhh." – and walked over to the bathroom to fetch the hamper, smiling at their bickering.

Leaving the bathroom, she moved towards the bedroom, and Ray panicked. "Uh, Mom, really, it's okay, you don't have to go in there…"

"Ray, dear, your t-shirt is on inside out."

"What?" Distracted, Ray looked down at his chest, ripped the shirt off, and put it back on right side out. Ben coughed, eyes twinkling, and she winked at him as she went into the bedroom to fetch the rest of their laundry.

Ray jittered in the doorway. "Mom…" He trailed off, horrified eyes fixed on her hands as she pulled three starched and folded handkerchiefs and a money clip full of Canadian dollars out of the pockets of the jeans that were at least a size too large to be his. "Uh…" She put the jeans in the hamper, along with the ratty old cream sweater, and scooped up the socks and the big white boxers too.

Ray squeaked, and Ben tugged at the collar of his tunic. "Uh, Mrs. Kowalski…"

Barbara frowned at him, and shoved the hamper into Ray's arms. "Look at you, you've fastened your buttons all wrong."

"I…what?" Ben looked down at his tunic, ran his hands along the mis-fastened buttons, and blushed.

Batting his hands away, Barbara matter-of-factly unfastened and refastened until his buttons were straight, and then smoothed down the tunic, tugging at it until it hung right.

Ben said, "Er," and straightened the little rope tie thing. "Er. Thank you kindly, Ma'am." She frowned up at him again, thoughtfully, and he looked nervous. "Er."

"Comb." He blinked at her, and she snapped her fingers at him impatiently until he rummaged through his uniform and produced one.

"Bend over." Behind her, Ray coughed, and Ben blushed again and shot her son an evil glare. Barbara rolled her eyes. Men! They never did grow up. She tidied Ben's hair – he had such lovely hair – kissed his forehead, and handed him back his comb. "There! All done."

Ben said "Er" again, and then just stopped, looking perplexed, and threw a 'help-me' look at Ray, who looked like he was about to cry.

"Mom…you know? And you don't mind?"

"Of course I know – I'm your mother. And I just want you to be happy, baby." She hugged him, and he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and wrapped his arms around her, tight. She stroked his back soothingly until he stopped shaking, and held on until he let go.

Ben watched, looking like he wasn't sure if he should be happy or not, so she hugged him, too, and he…didn't hug back. He sort of embraced her, carefully, formally, and she pulled back and tapped him sharply on the nose. "You call that a hug?"

Ben tilted his head and looked confused. "Ma'am?"

"Mom." Barbara gripped his shoulder and shook it slightly. "You call me 'Mom,' Ben."

Ben cleared his throat, rubbed his eyebrow, and flicked a glance at Ray, who was smiling like he'd won the lottery. "Yes, Ma-. Er. Mom."

He smiled at Barbara, cautiously, and she nodded, once, and said, "Right. Now, we're family, you hug me properly, Benton Fraser." She hugged him again, tight, and after a moment he hugged back, tighter than Ray, like he never wanted to let go.

Then Ray was hugging both of them, whispering in his bad Polish, and she started to cry – for Ray and for Ben and for Stella and for all those long years – but it was okay, because when the boys finally let her go, their eyes were wet, too.


End file.
